


Pulse

by Anonymous



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It's a Thursday, 8 PM. At this time of night, Shane's usually watching something; obscure 1960s Sci-Fi flick, a doc, one of his top 5 Tommy Cruise films. He normally texts Ryan his running commentary throughout, praising various shots, noting the scandalous past of the director, hailing how advanced the special effects were for that decade.But Ryan hasn't received a message from Shane since before they left the office for the day. And it's not like Shane had gone camping or was on a flight.Ryan reasons that there is probably a reasonable reason for Shane's lack of a reply. But as the minutes tick by, he can't help the growing tightness in his chest, the uncomfortable roll of his stomach.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Kudos: 100
Collections: Anonymous





	Pulse

_8:03 PM: Are you such an old man that you fell asleep in front of the boob tube? :p_

_8:10 PM: You're probably eating your bran flakes and fiber pills ya old coot._

_8:16 PM: Do you think people in the 60s ever thought that something like the Internet could exist?_

_8:18 PM: You good man?_

_8:20 PM: You better fucking not be messing with me dude._

_8:22 PM: Seriously Shane, this isn't funny. It's not up to your usual standard of material._

_8:23 PM: You there?_

_8:25 PM: You know how my brain works. I'm gonna start imaginging worst case scenarios here. And I don't mean being abducted by aliens in a zippered suit._

_8:26 PM: I'm gonna come over there if you don't answer._

As Ryan drives to Shane's house, he tries to reassure himself that Shane probably just fell asleep or something and he's gonna be pissed that Ryan woke him up out of his own paranoia. 

But Ryan's stomach sours and he feels a chill prickle over his skin, his heart pounding in his ears as he tries not to imagine Shane in some life-threatening scenario. 

When he arrives at Shane's apartment, his hand is already in his pocket, holding tightly to the copy of Shane's apartment key that he'd given him. He reaches the door and knocks hard, 3 times. He taps his foot impatiently, pressing his thumb into the teeth of the key, trying not to barge in just because he doesn't hear something right away. 

The worry claws its way up Ryan's back, wrapping around his mouth like a scarf, suffocating him and making his lungs burn. He unlocks the door, throwing it open, before slamming it behind him. Shane's television is on the Netflix menu page, but Shane isn't in the living room. Ryan is just about to sprint towards Shane's bedroom when he hears something scrape across the kitchen floor. He rushes in there to find Shane slumped against the cabinets with his legs extended out in front of him. He's conscious alright, but his eyes are wet and red and he's staring very intently between his legs. 

And then, Ryan notices that Shane's inner thigh is bleeding. 

He feels like his stomach falls onto the floor, his head feeling fuzzy around the edges. 

"Shane?" Ryan croaks, unable to hide the concern in his voice. 

Shane doesn't look up at him, trying to subtly set down the X-Acto knife that's clearly clutched in his right hand. Ryan quickly knocks it out of Shane's grasp and puts it out of reach, not thinking about anything other than stopping the bleeding as he rips off his t-shirt and presses it to the wound. 

Shane hisses at the contact and it's only then that Ryan distantly realizes that Shane's in nothing but his boxers. 

"The cut is--Ryan, it's not that deep," Shane says quietly. "You don't have--" 

"Shut up Shane," Ryan bites back, his voice cracking as he rapdily blinks away the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes. Once the bleeding subsides, Ryan realizes that it actually is a pretty shallow cut but it does need to be cleaned and bandaged. "Where's your first aid kit?" Ryan asks. 

"In the underground cult apocalypse bunker," Shane deadpans. 

Ryan can't help the crushed look that displays on his face as Shane nods toward one of his cabinets. Ryan retrieves the kit quickly, and begins taking out the necessary supplies. He dabs a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and looks up at Shane. 

"This is gonna sting. Hold onto my arm if you need, but don't squirm too much," Ryan tells him. He lightly pats the cotton ball along Shane's thigh, eventually feeling Shane's fingers digging into his shoulder. His grip is tight and uncomfortable, but at least it's a reminder that Shane is still here, that he's still okay. Ryan finishes cleaning the wound and places a plaster over top of it. He eases back down onto the floor, his arm tingling as Shane pulls his hand away. 

Now that he's out of flight or fight mode, now that he's sure that Shane is safe, the reality of the situation presses down heavily on his shoulders, the weight of it making his body ache.

Ryan takes a deep breath and looks up at his best friend. "What the fuck Shane?" he asks, but the question doesn't carry the punch and the anger Ryan intended to put there. 

Shane curls in on himself a little, looking small and ashamed. Ryan feels every emotion slam into him at once, like he might spontaneously combust at any moment; that's the only explanation he can muster for why he proceeds to wrap his arms around Shane and pull him close. Both of their chests bare, Ryan can feel the warmt of Shane's body heat, can feel his heart beat steadily. He closes his eyes, unable to help the tears that spill onto Shane's skin. He doesn't want this to become about himself and his own worry, but he can't bring himself to let go. Not just yet. 

Shane's arms curl underneath Ryan's, his hands coming to rest on Ryan's shoulders. He can feel Shane's fingertips tremble, and Ryan tightens his hold on Shane, granting silent permission for him to hold on tighter too. Ryan's hand comes to rest on the nape of Shane's neck, his thumb absently tracing over the bit of hair there. 

The silence seems to stretch on forever, until Shane finally speaks. 

"Did I--Are you mad at me?" he asks quietly. 

Ryan's shocked at the intensity of the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice. 

He's never heard Shane ask anyone that. Except one time when he asked Ryan that at the end of the day of the launch of Watcher. 

"I'm not mad at you," Ryan admits, because it's true. "I'm mad at myself that I didn't figure this out sooner. And don't tell me it's not my fault. I'm not an idiot, I know that, but it doesn't make me feel any fucking better." 

He can feel his fingers running through Shane's hair. He doesn't remember himself starting to do that, but is relieved when Shane seems to relax into the touch. 

"Fuck, Shane, you could have--" Ryan won't allow himself to finish his sentence, or even finish his thought. He pulls back from Shane and stands to his feet, offering his hand to Shane. "Can you stand?"

"Like I said, it was a pretty shallow cut Ryan, you don't have to--" 

"Can. You. Stand?" Ryan repeats, his voice taking on a sterner tone as he punctuates each word. 

Shane nods slowly, taking Ryan's hand and getting to his feet. Ryan gently pulls Shane toward his bedroom. He lightly eases Shane down onto the bed, maneuvering him around until his laying on his back and under the covers. Ryan slips into bed beside him. "I'm not leaving you and your head in here alone," he states before Shane can protest. 

Shane lets out a shallow sigh, but doesn't say anything. 

Ryan pulls out his cell phone. "I'm letting Steven know we're not coming in tomorrow." Once he sends the text, he rolls over onto his back. Turning towards Shane right now would be too painful, knowing that something in Shane has cracked and spilled out over the brim. But turning towards the other side of the bed, faced away from Shane, is too scary to think about; he doesn't think he can deal with another "surprise" like that. 

He feels the bed shift beside him, and he can feel Shane slide closer to him. Close enough to be nearly touching, but not quite. Close enough to want comfort but not ask for it. Ryan takes Shane's hand in his own, entwining their fingers. He squeezes Shane's hand lightly, relieved when Shane squeezes back. 

They lay like that for some time, until Ryan starts to hear Shane's breathing even out and give way to snoring. Fresh tears fall from Ryan's eyes, and he's never heard a more beautiful snore. He's exhausted from the adrenaline rush of earlier and his eyelids soon begin to droop. And if his thumb drifts toward the pulse point of Shane's wrist at some point in the night, neither of them acknowledge it.


End file.
